writing.

Daily Prompt: Aimless

Tonight, she sought refuge, solace, comfort. She ended up in the old neighbourhood where she used to go to school.

She laughed. Not a real laugh, the brittle kind, as if she didn’t know if she was supposed to moan, groan, growl, snarl. Her subconscious truly had a sense of humour. She had not been to this neighbourhood in at least 5 years, maybe 10, though she thought of it often. Every day. And now, the day after her birthday, she somehow drove herself to this place, no map, no GPS, her only guide, an internal compass seeking the place of beginnings.

Then, she realised that the hostel she used to live in was not where it was supposed to be. Frantic, she drove around and around, wondering if perhaps she was not where she thought she was. After several minutes of aimless driving, passing landmarks, or what were left of landmarks, she accepted that she was not wrong. The building in which she slept, laughed, cried, existed for those few years, was no longer there.

In her parked car barely a hundred metres away, she gazed at the empty lot that used to be a hostel converted from a car park, a hostel that housed hopeful, eager students. She imagined once that sometime in the future, she’d bring her children there to show them where their mother used to live, those heady days, filled with books, friends, loves, food. The lot was filled with grass and who knows what else.

She drove away then, still seeking refuge, solace, comfort. She mourned the building, the first building she’s ever mourned.